The Incident at Luke's Diner
by outtabreath
Summary: Lorelai flirts and Luke breaks. One-shot. Complete.


Author's Note: Thanks be to **Moosie** and **Apfelstrudel** for their pushing and cheering; you two are the best.

A/N 2: This is totally non-canon (as most of my stuff is) and takes place out of GG time and space. Rory is at Yale and Luke is divorced, otherwise there are no episode-related spoilers to be found within.

Disclaimer: I own only my Christmas bills, please don't sue. I owe lots of money to Santa Claus, and he plays for keeps.

* * *

**The Incident at Luke's Diner**

"Frisky is not a bad word," I said defensively.

"I didn't say frisky was a bad word. It's just not a word I need to hear my mother use to describe herself at 8 on a Saturday morning," came Rory's response.

"Fine. I will describe myself as well-rested. Is that better?"

"Not as descriptive, but less trauma-inducing," there was a pause. "Should you be headed to Luke's?"

"Is that not where the coffee and breakfast foods are to be found? Of course I should be headed to Luke's," I replied.

"Mom," she said, her tone censuring. "Maybe you shouldn't go to Luke's when you're feeling frisky."

"Why not?" I demanded, even as I knew exactly where she was going with this. "You have got to get over this Luke-has-a-thing-for-me-thing, hon. The flirting and the banter, purely keeping us primed and ready for the real thing." I sounded convincing and was rather proud of myself.

"You and Luke don't need to get into a fight because you take the flirting too far because you are in a good mood and he's probably not, what with the divorce and all. Just give him a break, okay? Remember that he has just ended a marriage and he isn't really up to the full-on Lorelai."

"The full-on-Lorelai?" I countered. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm damned adorable."

Rory sighed and I could feel her disapproval speeding over the airwaves from Yale. "Mom."

"Hey, I'm the parent here. I get to do the deep sigh and disapproval over your life choices. That's my right for giving birth and raising you into the perfect specimen of womanhood you've become."

"I'm not disapproving," she lied smoothly, "just wondering if you should limit your time at Luke's today. You are really, really _well-rested _and I can see trouble ahead."

"No trouble ahead," I pronounced, walking up the steps and jangling the bell of Luke's Diner. "I've got to go; I'm in the no cell phone-zone."

"Behave, Mom," chided Rory.

"Always," I said, closing the phone on her snort of disbelief and entering the diner brutally tamping down the little twinge of guilt that I would invariably feel when I lied to my daughter. This is the truth: With everyone so focused on Luke's alleged thing for me, they had overlooked my thing for him. Usually, I could keep it hidden – my amazing powers of misdirection and incessant babbling put the focus squarely on Luke and not on me and I could keep my own feelings hidden behind a wall of "whatever's" and "no's" and "look at the pretty birdie's." I had gotten so good at the misdirection that I sometimes forgot about my thing myself. Then, something would happen, a breeze at the right time, a Luke smile that I was unprepared for, a good night's sleep, and I would suddenly be back in the middle of "my thing."

So, conceivably, I was on treacherous ground when I walked into Luke's, being as frisky and happy and heedless as I was; but, I figured, I had been misdirecting and sleight-ing of hand all these years and today would be no different. Luke did not have a thing for me – hello, he had _married_ someone else – and I wasn't about to let on that I had a thing for him if he didn't have a thing for me.

A girl's got to have standards.

The diner was sunny and packed and smelled like Luke's coffee and bacon and pancakes. Lane and Cesar bustled among the tables while Luke stood behind the counter filling orders and generally glowering and looking absolutely amazing.

"Good morning, sunshine," I chirped as I perched myself on a stool, noting the color and pattern of his unbuttoned plaid and the color of the t-shirt beneath it. He looked back at me flatly before turning to fill a mug with coffee and place it in front of me. I allowed my face to fall into a look of astonishment, "what? No lecture, no need for begging and pleading?"

"I'm not in the mood," he said shortly, pulling an order pad towards himself. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Hey! I just got here. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I need time to figure out what I'm going to use to fuel my body for the rest of the day," I said, completely ignoring Rory's admonitions.

He grunted and glared, "Again, not in the mood. I've got lots of people in here who know what they want for breakfast. I'm going to serve them while you figure out what you want." And with that, he headed off to take care of other customers. Other customers! My good mood began to dissipate. He was ignoring me just when I was feeling all happy and warm towards the world. This could not be allowed to continue.

Suddenly, he was back behind the counter regarding me. "Did you make up your mind, or do I just start making what I think you want?"

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" I demanded.

He sighed and jammed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and said something that I didn't even hear; he was standing in my very favorite Luke pose. I blinked stupidly at him as his words filtered through my hormone haze. "You're tired? Why are you tired? What'd you do last night?" I waggled my eyebrows at him even as I was thrusting down jets of jealousy.

"Not what you are implying," he shot back.

"So you didn't have a stimulating evening of watching ESPN and ordering pickles?"

"Why do I even bother?" he asked the air, "I know what she's going to do, and yet I talk to her every day."

"It's because I'm charming," I pointed out.

"What?"

"You bother and talk to me because I'm charming."

"Okay," he said slowly, drawing every letter out to show me that he was not agreeing with me.

"If it's not because I'm charming, then why do you?"

"I just said that I don't know why I bother," he said, huffing in annoyance and beginning to clean the counter in front of me.

I watched him swirl the rag around in little circles in front of me and watched his hand tighten on the piece of cloth and I found it very hard to breathe. I pulled my eyes back up to his face and focused on his downcast eyes. "Is it because of Nicole?"

His head snapped up so hard I was sure he had pulled every muscle in his neck. "What?!" he demanded.

"Is it because of Nicole?" I repeated, not sure if he'd heard me.

"Is _what_ because of Nicole?"

"That you're in a bad mood. Is it because of Nicole and the divorce?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is my business, Luke. I'm your friend and I should know why you're so cranky."

He stared at me, "and the only reason I'm cranky would be because of Nicole and the divorce. It couldn't have anything to do with customers who come in here and refuse to order breakfast and drink too much coffee?"

I ignored his pointed remarks and smiled beatifically, "oh them," I said, waving my hand around my head to indicate the other patrons, "they're not the problem."

"No, _they_ aren't," he said pointedly.

"Oh, Luke," I flirted, flipping my hair and batting my eyelashes, "you know you adore me."

He froze and scowled at me.

"Don't deny it anymore."

He was still frozen and scowling, but at least he wasn't ignoring me anymore. That'll teach him to be short with me.

I opened my mouth to continue needling him, but he interrupted me. "Sometimes," he said rather loudly, "I think I should just hogtie and gag you and get it over with."

"Oh honey," I said, just as loudly, "I told you we try that tonight."

I had never known that a hush really could fall over something until the moment the diner went silent. Luke was staring at me with an odd expression on his face. The demon that had entered me the minute he had ignored me continued to prod me into greater acts of disobedience. "Joking," I announced, swiveling to address the customers, "just joking. We haven't slept together," I swiveled back to face a fuming Luke. Even as he mouthed _don't_, I finished my sentence with "yet." I then sent him a brilliant smile as the diner erupted in whispered conversation.

He took several huge breaths, trying to calm himself, I suppose; I didn't really think too long about why he was doing what he was doing as I was caught up as I was in watching the t-shirt pull taut with every breath he took.

I was watching his heaving chest with great interest when Luke expelled my name on a breath. I blinked at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he questioned.

Well, I was staring at his chest and my fingers were itching to touch the soft gray t-shirt material that was at my eye level; my thinking about this was getting in the way of paying attention to much else.

"I'm talking to you, Lorelai," he said. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

I looked at him, "nothing," I replied.

"The hell you aren't."

"I'm doing our thing, our flirting and bantering thing, Luke. Can't take it?"

"Stop now, Lorelai."

"You can always walk away," I pointed out smugly.

"This is my diner, I don't need to be the one who walks away." He took another deep, chest-expanding breath that prophesized the beginning of a Luke-rant. "Lukey," I interrupted, moving to perch on the rungs of the stool. "Gray really isn't your color," I ran my fingers across the exposed cotton. "Maybe a peachy color would be better."

Not quite what I expected to do.

He hadn't moved since I had began touching him, but the second I trailed my fingers down to the counter, he let out a breath in an explosive gasp. I snapped my eyes to his and suddenly began to push myself back before he throttled me. "Storeroom now,  
he said.

"Luke," I said, getting off the stool and trying to back towards the door.

"Now," he said in a way that left me cowed. He spun to where Lane and Cesar were standing and staring. "I need to talk to Lorelai in the storeroom for two minutes," he looked at me again, "right now."

I trotted off to the storeroom readying myself for the Luke rant that was sure to erupt the moment the door closed behind us. I could feel his heat behind me and I was sure he was beyond angry with me; he might just stand there and grunt at me for two minutes.

I entered first, spinning to start apologizing as he closed the door. I got out "Lu" before he was on me. One of his hands was jammed into my hair; the other was molded into the small of my back. I got a brief glimpse of his eyes, dark and enormous, before he was kissing me and pushing me back against the wall and pulling me into him. His left leg was between mine, pressing upwards as he kissed me. I was flooded with sensation, too much to take in at once. I whimpered into his mouth as he plundered mine. His mouth was fierce and demanding. He tightened his hands, as if he was afraid that I was going to bolt.

My hands, however, roamed freely, moving up under his t-shirt, caressing the soft skin of his back, down over the back of his jeans. I groaned into his mouth, and he answered by thrusting his leg up even harder. He angled his face and delved into my mouth deeper. I tightened my thighs around his, delirious and dizzy and, suddenly, alone. My eyes flew open to find Luke plastered against the wall opposite of me.

I took a staggering step towards him.

"Stop," he said immediately, his voice very quiet. He ran his hand through his hair and I was momentarily confused. Where was his cap?

On the floor, by my feet, I quickly discovered. I leaned over to pick it up, almost toppling over in the process. Steadying myself on very unsteady legs, I straightened and held it out to him. My hand was shaking. Small wonder.

He bent forward at the waist and took it from my hand and put it firmly back on his head. I noticed that his hands were shaking, too.

He drew in a deep breath and said "I'm sorry."

"What?" I demanded, my euphoria quickly dying. "What are you apologizing for exactly?"

"That," he replied, motioning towards me.

I took the opportunity to take another step towards him.

"Don't," he said. "It's really best if you stay over there."

"Luke," I said, "Rory told me not to come in here when I was feeling frisky."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

"But I didn't listen to her and the coffee and the sugar and your t-shirt and I wasn't thinking clearly. I am well-rested and that's almost like drunk 'cause I'm not feeling stressed or worried about anything." I kept on talking, trying to babble my way out of this and into…I wasn't sure what I wanted yet, but I didn't want him staring at me in that broken way that indicated he was horrified about what had just happened. "I shouldn't have started the scene out there," I pointed in the direction of the dining room. New horror broke over me as I realized, "Luke. I think we've been gone longer than two minutes."

"I know."

"They'll think we're…"

"I know," he interrupted explosively. "They'll think we're doing exactly what we were doing." His breathing was ragged.

"Its okay, Luke."

"No. No its not, Lorelai. I never should've done that. You never should've started this." He took a very deep breath. "We need to get back out there."

"Uh, Luke," I said pointedly.

"What?"

I cast my eyes down, then up to the ceiling. I knew that he had followed my eyes the minute his voice exploded, "oh jeez! You'd think I was some horny teenager."

"You can't resist me," I said – testing more than teasing; I lowered my eyes to his face.

His eyes got very wide and he stared at me, his mouth slightly open. I waited for him to talk next. He snapped his mouth closed and said, "what did you say about my t-shirt?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier, you said that the sugar and the coffee and my t-shirt were doing something to you. What exactly was my t-shirt doing to you?"

I opened and closed my mouth helplessly. _Always listen to Rory,_ I told myself. _Always, always, always. _"Nothing," I said, "I was overwrought and I wasn't thinking clearly and I said t-shirt when I meant to say something else entirely."

"What?"

"What what?"

"What something else entirely did you mean to say?"

"Reigert," I said, pulling the name out of the air and running with it, "Peter Reigert. I watched _Crossing Delancey_ last night and he was adorable in it. I was thinking about him and that's what I meant."

"Oh, that explains it." He stepped closer to me.

"Explains what?"

"This whole morning. Everything that's happened. You watched a movie and were frisky and kissed me."

"You kissed me first," I protested.

"But you touched me first," he pointed out, stepping closer.

"I did," I confirmed, mainly because there was no way I was going to be able to lie about that, "but it didn't mean anything."

"It did to me," he corrected, before pulling me right back into the source of his earlier embarrassment. He started kissing my neck and playing with my hair.

"Luke," I said, moaning without meaning to.

"Shut up, Lorelai," he replied.

Later, we emerged to find a diner full of people failing miserably at trying to look uninterested; it appeared that the word that something big was happening at Luke's had attracted a large number of Stars Hollow's residents. I saw Miss Patty eating a donut pinch by pinch; Babette was sitting next to her, not even bothering to hide her grin.

"I'll walk you out," Luke whispered into my ear.

"I'll be fine," I whispered back. "Get back to work."

"I'll see you later, Lorelai," Luke said loudly, stationing himself at the cash register.

I began to walk around the counter and past Lane, whose mouth was hanging open; I closed it for her.

"One hour, Lorelai," she said. "You guys have been in there for an hour."

"I know," I replied, not really knowing. Wow. An hour. I really had been frisky.

Luke was holding my purse out to me; he was wearing a huge grin that I knew was repeated on my own face. I took the bag from him and stared deep into his eyes for a good ten seconds; to his credit, he stared right back. We blinked in unison and I turned to leave the diner.

As I passed by the table Patty and Babette were smugly occupying, Miss Patty grabbed my arm. "Your t-shirt is on inside-out, honey," she smiled.

I looked down at myself, smiled back cheerfully and said, "its not my t-shirt, Miss Patty." Then I sailed out of the diner, my head held high and my step light.


End file.
